Last Stand
by atrish1
Summary: Another fic about survival and endurance -- rooted in the bond of a great friendship. Hutch has gone missing and Starsky, once again, finds him.


_(**these great characters don't belong to me & I don't make any money off of making up stories about 'em**)_

_Thanks to my buddy, Robbin for the fast beta work on ths one , and for always being such an encouragement._

Also to Adrianne for pointing out some bumpy parts.

Last Stand

Starsky was sobbing like a baby, and didn't care who might have seen or heard him.

He'd found Hutch.

Too many days had passed…Hutch missing…too many conversations with Dobey and Huggy about preparing himself for the worst.

Sucking in air, he tried to quench the emotions. The joy-- but also the sorrow of finding his partner, his best friend, in such a terrible state. Beaten-up, shot, and left to die in the canyons west of the city.

"Everybody said you were dead," he whispered to him, kneeling next to the trembling man, huddled up close to a gigantic sequoia.

The wild eyes, Hutch's blue ones, scared him. Starsky couldn't believe the ferocity in them.

"Hutch?" he asked. Asking so many things... "_Buddy_…_it's me_." The fierce, crazed stare looked passed him, into the distance.

Starsky caringly reached out to touch him and Hutch tried to move away, a keening wail slipped through his open mouth.

Starsky pulled his hand back, using it instead, to wipe away the wetness on his face.

God, he was so pale, the gray-tinted skin still bruised from the beating he'd been given. Mud, crusted and cracked, covered one side of Hutch's face, like a weird Phantom of the Opera mask. His light hair, matted and dirty. Twigs and pieces of dried leaves sticking in and out of it. But…those eyes…

Starsky, sniffing back the rest of his tears-- trying to compose himself, let _his_ eyes take in the condition of his best friend. Remembering how he got that way.

The job had gone sour. Hutch's cover busted. And he'd heard the whole thing go down—the angry curses of the drug dealers and the wrath inflicted on his partner, until the discovered wire was yanked silent. Running like a madman, with the rest of the backup officers responding to another cop in trouble. Busting through the doors of that warehouse and finding the underground tunnels that had empowered the gang to drag off Hutch into the night. The only thing of Hutch left behind, were drops of his blood… spotting the dusty cement floor.

The hoods, the not too bright low-lifes, gleeful they'd kidnapped one of Bay City's finest, attempted a barter and trade deal. Officer Hutchinson---for one of their pals in the joint. Dobey stalled them as long as possible until it became evident there was no trade on the table. And that's when Starsky's world completely flipped off its axis.

The word on the streets of Bay City was that the tall blond cop-- the one that was partnered with the cop that drove the Red Torino, the one with the white stripe—

_Well, that blond cop-- wasn't among the living anymore!_

There was speculation, the tales urban legends are made up of – _Ken Hutchinson _some said, had an anchor tied to his feet and was tossed from the East Riverside pier. Others said he'd been stuffed in a barrel and his current residence was now--the city dump.

And there were more, even more horrific tales, but they all concluded with—

…_no one would ever find his body_.

Starsky didn't know where those people on the street got their facts from. All he knew for sure was what Huggy's snitch (and Huggy didn't deal in urban legends); a red-skinned Jamaican with dreadlocks down his back, told him what he _knew_ to be true-- that Hutch had been shot and left to die in Dead Man's Canyon. Huggy cursed and ranted for a long minute, and then mumbled, "Sick, bastards"….and Starsky, refusing to even acknowledge the sick joke, ran to the police radio and called it in.

Less than an hour later --

There were paramedics, cops, firemen and a Search and Rescue squad…thirty plus somber looking men, searching for a fresh dug grave, a mound of freshly turned dirt, and Detective Hutchinson's body. All of Starsky's protests that his partner was still among the living, were met with slumped shoulders and wayward stares. None of them believed they'd find his partner alive.

Where the hell were those guys, anyway? Somebody showing up right now would be dandy!

Starsky yelled for them, "Over here! HELLLLPPP! Here!" Hutch flinched, his eyes widening, distressed by the shouts. And Starsky's heart ached, his mouth clamping shut.

He crawled forward, the wet leaves and grass and mud beneath him soaking his pants. Now, just inches away from his hurting friend, he spoke. Low and soft. "It's me, partner." Gentle, he slid a hand onto a trembling shoulder. Carefully guiding Hutch to sit up. Hutch's eyes darted, a corner of his mouth dropping into a grimace. Then an angry moan, his displeasure of being touched and moved. "It-It's s'okay." Starsky shakily assured him. No! The proverbial '_it' _wasn't okay, _**it**_ wasn't fine, _**it**_was jacked up royally! Hutch had been out there, alone, slowly…dying. _No_ help…_no_ relief from pain, or from the fear of death at his life's door.

The radio in his pocket was useless—the stupid thing had died hours ago.

Suddenly, Starsky remembered the rookie cop that had been on his heels until about twenty minutes earlier, when he'd gotten so annoyed and told the young officer: they should split up. _Yes,_ Dobey said not to—but Starsky explained, it would be their little secret. He directed the kid to go right, and he would go left. "We'll cover more ground." Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, the baby-faced cop guy started to take off and Starsky called him back--telling him, under no circumstance should he draw his weapon --"Too many of us out here, kid--kay?"

"_Charlie!"_ The yell for the rookie elicited more disturbed moans and wheezy breathing from Hutch. Even though his cries for help distressed his injured partner, Starsky called out again. _"Chuck!_" Maybe that was the kid's name. "Medic!" Hoping a paramedic might hear him.

Once more he tried to touch Hutch, and got the same feral, guttural comeback.

"_What? What is it, buddy?" _Confused, he searched his partner's face, trying to understand Hutch's behavior. _Fever? _

"Gonna get you some help." Starsky declared, jumping to his feet. Racing into the overgrown brush, he screamed, "Over here! Help!"

Hearing nothing and seeing no one, he rushed back to Hutch's side. His eyes settled on the blood soaked clothes. One of Hutch's large hand also coated sticky red, fingers curled inward, clutching at the patch of slick with blood cotton.

"Let me see," Starsky told him...reaching. Hutch grunted defiantly, weakly flapping a limp slap at him.

Bewildered, Starsky sat back on his heels." _Babe?_ You know it's me, right? Gonna get--"

Startled into silence, he watched Hutch's bloody hand swing out, palm flat against the tree behind him, powerlessly trying to push himself up.

"Whoa!" What..." Starsky used his body to block him. "Where you going, huh?"

Hutch stood.

How was that was even possible? Starsky marveled. His strange-acting partner swayed. Failing miserably as he tried to lift a foot…trying to walk. They stayed that way---a precarious stand-off of sorts, even if Starsky didn't know why Hutch was fighting him, Starsky's cautious arms the perimeter around him.

"Wheer...y...u..." The gruff, broken up sentence Hutch barked at him.

"_What?"_ Starsky stared into his peculiar acting friend's eyes--and what he found there, _what he had missed_—brought a grin to his face and a new bounty of tears down his cheeks.

Ken Hutchinson…was pissed.

Pissed that the bust had gone bad, that the bad guys had gotten the upper hand on them this time. Pissed he'd had his butt kicked, that someone had tried to kill him. That he'd been shot and dumped in the middle of nowhere, with only his bloody wound and pain for company…

And left to fight death with just mud, and twigs, and his sheer strength of will as his only weapons…

And no one..._no_ help…_no_ partner…_no_ best friend…._no_ David Starsky

…._no_

_..no _me and thee there to back him up…

The question Hutch was asking-- "_Where were you, partner?" _

It stung him like a thousand bees and his anger flashed. The insult of it reddening his face. All the damn hours he'd spent--the two days of hell he'd lived through. Starsky was ready to tell his partner what he could do with that question, the punch-to-the-gut accusation of his sitting on his butt somewhere, while his partner was waiting for him to reclaim him. Starsky was a beat from grabbing his pal, and shaking some sense into him--

But, when he looked in Hutch's eyes again-- the hurt, lost, little-boyness in them washed the sting of the words away.

All Hutch had to keep him going during his ordeal--was his anger. Thank God for that, because it was the very thing that had kept him alive… kept him fighting…while he waited for Starsky to find him. Heck, if it had been him, if he'd been the one left for dead, he'd have been pissed, too-- wondering when Hutch would show up to save him?

Yeah, he sure was gonna have to set Hutch straight on some things...later.

Hutch needed to keep fighting a little while longer.

Digging deep for composure, Starsky had to swallow hard to get out the sentence that he knew would prickle even more of Hutch's ire.

"You...ah, couldn't find your way outta, here, huh?" Starsky asked, anticipating the squinted glare Hutch shot his way.

"Sc-screw...you," the blond man cursed at him in between wheezy breaths.

A rustling off to the side, and Starsky turned quickly to finally see the rookie come stumbling out of the bush. "Hey!" the young man shouted at the sight of two men, when he'd been expecting only one.

His sudden appearance shook Hutch, who in his vulnerable condition, instinctively turned to Starsky for protection. Leaned into him and Starsky gloried in the slight contact, but kept his arms from encircling his partner.

Starsky spoke calmly, "Chuck…"

"Charlie," the red-haired cop corrected.

"Yeah. Look, Charlie, this man here—this is Detective Sergeant Ken Hutchinson."

Hutch's shoulders stiffened, his head slightly lifted a few inches, warily acknowledging the formal introduction.

"He's alive!" The gawking young officer started walking in for a closer look and Starsky raised a hand to stop him.

"Yes. He's alive" Starsky said, determined not to let his fear over just how much longer that might be true come through in his voice. "I'm gonna need you you to go back to base camp and get the medics, tell them we might need a helicopter."

"Yes, sir."

"You make sure you can find your way back to this exact same spot, hear me?" Starsky's firm reprimand held the implication there'd be major trouble for the officer if he couldn't.

"I will."

Starsky's pointed stare captured Charlie's eyes, "_Hurry,"_ he mouthed, the direness of the situation made clear by the gloomy expression on his face.

Charlie nodded his understanding and took off.

Hutch weakly pushed off of him.

"You're a piece o work, you know that, Hutchinson?" Starsky admonished his stubborn partner, admiringly.

Hutch, breathing through his mouth, reached back for the tree that he had claimed stakes to - to fight his life and death battle. Falling back on it like it was his anchor, his fortress.

"Hutchinson's last stand, hmm?" Starsky said quietly. The observation earned him a sardonic frown from the tall man, whose long legs barely kept him upright.

He slid down some, and Starsky grabbed for him, helping to straighten him. The wounded man made a weak attempt to jerk away. Starsky released his grip and instead of supporting his partner, he reached out, plucking a brown object from Hutch's matted hair.

"Dried leaf." He explained to his partner's scrunched up with exhaustion and pained expression.

Hutch looked like he would have told him to leave it the hell alone, if he could string the words together.

Starsky, navigating his way closer, distracted his partner with apologetic raised hands, sneaking in a step. Primed, and ready to catch Hutch when he finally was able to let go of the burden he'd carried all on his own, for far too long.

"You're gonna fall flat on your face, buddy," he said, tugging at him. His fingertips grazing over Hutch's clammy skin. _Give it to me, partner—_was what they were communicating.

An eternity passed.

And then Charlie, the kid with more instincts than Starsky had given him credit for, was there giving him the signal. "They're comin' up and a copter too."

_Thumbs up, kid._

Help was coming. And now Starsky would work on breaking down Hutch's armor. Being a rock – _no_-- being an island unto himself, had kept his friend over these last horrible days--had bought him that far. But it was something much gentler – something more '_me and thee'_ that was going to get his best friend the rest of the way. Hutch needed a soft place to fall. And Starsky was going to make sure he was gonna get it.… Starsky was going to be there for every minute of his partner's recovery. Paramedics, doctors, and nurses beware!

"Hutch, you're running of fumes, buddy. I...don't know how you held on so long."

_I know how hard it was, think I don't know._

There were only inches between them now. So close he could feel the tremors ravaging the sagging frame. Hutch was just minutes from complete collapse. Starsky sighed...releasing some the ache curdling inside him, knowing the sorrow resounding in the fractured breath, would convey to Hutch the terror he'd been living in since the very minute when he'd found Hutch's blood on that warehouse floor. He knew that sigh still carried the comparable anguish to Hutch's pain. Reminding Hutch how closely their souls were bonded--how much he hurt when Hutch was hurting. That sigh-- told the story of how life had been for him over the last 46 hours...of lost sleep and going hungry as his Adidas pounded concrete--living only on his need to find his partner and have him look him straight in the eyes and say. _Starsky, I'm okay. _And all the while... mourning the possibility he might never hear Hutch speak another word to him again.

Hutch, still fighting him, tried to take a step. One of those long giraffe leg's of his shaking from the foot and up to his hip, setting off a full body tremor...and Starsky made his move.

"_Hutch_..._tore me up inside._" Starsky whispered, letting the timbre of his voice communicate to his friend how much he loved him. "_Buddy, __I__'m here_..."

The injured man, barely able to lift his head, stared through disheveled and mud-caked bangs… the crazy defiance in the blue eyes dimming.

He'd tell his blond friend everything. "They told me you were dead. You think I listened to 'em? I knew you were waiting for me. I _never _stopped looking for you, hear me? I knew you were waitin'… holding on for me." The angst-laden plea and the emotion in it made Hutch's hardened gaze slide down, dropping to the ground. The words must have slipped pass some of the ailing man's defenses—because his toppling frame swayed toward Starsky, not the opposite direction this time.

Starsky's touch slid up Hutch's arms, moving in closer. Their foreheads millimeters apart, Starsky kept talking, "Didn't matter what they said, I was gonna find you. I knew you were waiting, Hutch. Wanna know how I knew?"

Barely able, Hutch lifted his head, tear-filled eyes to him. Like he needed to hear, but also needed to see Starsky tell him the answer he already knew.

Touching his own chest, Starsky's fingers lightly tapped at his heart.

It was inexplicable to both of them, how close they were—how many times had the other just had 'known' what was unknown?

Hutch's lips quivered, all of a smile he could manage, "I...know," he mumbled.

_"C'mere, willya tough guy?", _Starsky warmly chided.

The blond-man's tears were all the permission Starsky needed to draw his best friend close. "C'mon. Let me take it now, partner. I got'cha."

Hutch gasped--his surrender.

"You don't hafta do this on your own anymore." Starsky was declaring the end of his partner's one man war against the world.

The words, just as Starsky knew they would, took the rest of Hutch's crumbling wall down. The woeful and agonized moans, came up out of the depths of his soul and Starsky held him tighter. One strong arm across his back as Hutch's legs failed him, slowly delivering more of his weight, his trust, back into his protector's care. "That's it, boy," Starsky softly encouraged.

Finally Hutch called out for him…"Stars..." and that was Starsky's undoing. He chuckled roughly, trying to quench the return of the earlier sobbing that had nearly incapacitated him. Losing his ability to stay upright, Hutch's head slid to the right, his gaze finding his partner. He studied him as if the dark-haired man had just fallen out of the sky. Then his eyes rolled back into his head and gravity took him earthward.

"I Gotcha. Gotcha." Starsky repeated his promise, holding onto him tightly.

He grunted, nearly taken to the ground, as Hutch bonelessly collapsed onto him.

"Tha-that's it, partner," he cooed, gratefully pulling his friend to his chest.

"I-I wa-wait...wait-ed," Hutch stammered, weakly pawing at Starsky, his head burrowing into the dark-haired man's neck.

"You did good, buddy."

Hutch acknowledged the praise with a shuddering groan.

"I know…I know," Starsky was making countless promises. He'd make everything right for the man he was forever devoted to. Immediately starting the caretaking of his best friend, he picked more of the crispy brown leaves out of Hutch's dirty hair. "We gotta get you cleaned up, you're a mess, partner."

"C-cold."

"We're takin' care of that." Starsky closed his eyes, willing the heat from his body into his partner's.

The quiet ministration was interrupted by Hutch breaking into a rough, rattling cough.

"Easy…easy..."

"OOO," Hutch moaned, grasping at the wound in his side that had to be retaliating for the harsh jerking the coughing had caused.

Terrified, Starsky drew him closer, whispering to him, "You keep holding on, hear? Stay with me. Gonna get you some help. Hold on, Help's comin'."

Hutch, stripped of the last of his energy, called out to him, "Ss-tars..." He looked like a faithless man who couldn't go any further. Eyes fluttering closed.

Becoming more and more dead weight in his arms.

Cruelly, Starsky shook him, begging, "Don't Hutch...please...please...hold on...no..no...don't leave..."

Long fingers grabbed at his collar, startling Starsky out of his grieving. Determination blazing in the partially opened blue stare confronting him.

"_N_-_Not...goin'...any...where_..." Hutch vowed.

Starsky, light-headed and giddy from the promise made, tears streaming down his face, smiled back at his best friend.

Loud voices and equipment being dropped and unpacked was the rush of activity around them. The medics.

And Hutch was taken from him.

~end~


End file.
